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van Gogh's The Night Cafe
Distance is, to the Mind, that rope
she throws across the bars
between her confidence & Hope

to cross the Meaning of the stars:

You do not know Distance
where she melts beyond the hills

There Destiny distills
Tomorrow's uncertain Chance

& pours it to our nonce: Then soon enough away
its passionate effects make us quite drunk

enough to cast the temperate day
to Memory's maudlin bunk

& you sure can't hope to hold your imminent Tomorrow:

Bloat, already Yesterday
has been to court

& lost its Case.